Lion and Lamb
by Lena Ban Obsidian
Summary: A little outright smut, more or less. Omi needs to chill. Naughty.


**Lion and lamb**  
Lena

Note: Brought to you by the raging hormones of my closest gay friend. ^^; and his need for me to alleviate them. 

* * *

Senses honed, he crept downstairs, sniffing the air for any suspicious scents; orchids and roses, not the smell he was hoping for. He passed by the door to the shop without a further glance and paused at the door to the basement, peering down into the darkness. From the depths of their mission room rose a faint steady clatter of computer keys. The tumultuous rhythm spoke in click-clacks of someone-- someone who smelled faintly of soda and maybe a little sweat-- hacking a database with serpentine ease. Predator crept step by step down into the lair of his prey, and waited, watching. 

Omi didin't look up from what he was doing, but his slightly annoyed voice pierced the air. "Yohji-kun, what do you need? I'm very busy right now." 

He paused where he was, three steps above the ground, and scowled at the boy's back. "How did you know it was me?" he grumbled, avoiding the question. 

Sighing a little, the boy sent a no-nonsense look over his shoulder, the type that meant a very slight narrowing of the eyes and an expression that made you feel like you were a deep disappointment on his lips. 

"You smell like smoke. What do you want, Yohji-kun?" 

One step closer let him see the smooth lines of ribs beneath the sheer scrap of fabric that Omi had taken to wearing of late as a shirt. He almost lost his train of thought, staring perhaps a little obviously before he recovered. "Nothing much. What are you up to? We haven't gotten anything from Persia, have we?" 

A slight shrug. Apparently coming to the conclusion that Yohji wasn't going to tell him why he was down here, Omi gave up and turned back to what he'd been doing. The sounds of typing filled the room again, steady pitter-patter that was not unlike rainfall. 

Yohji stepped off the stairs and closer to his prey, eyes gleaming with curiosity behind smoky gray glasses. "Mou, are you looking through naughty websites, Omi-chan?" 

Silence. 

Omi glared over his shoulder at Yohji. "Get the hell out if you don't have a reason for being here. I'm tired, I'm busy, and I'm not playing games today." 

Smiling, Yohji held up his hands as if cowed. "Sorry, sorry, didn't realize you were feeling so touchy today. What is it really? Shouldn't I know?" He closed the distance between them and leaned forward, peering obsequiously over Omi's shoulder to look at the screen. Of course he didn't really have the faintest idea what the coding and text there meant, but he made an intrigued noise deep in his throat anyway. 

Omi tensed as he drew closer, and he turned his head just so, so that his lips were brushing the boy's neck, and inhaled the scent of his prey. It was heady; thick with nervosity, with weariness, with that defining characteristic that made the smell Omi. It was delicious. He chuckled low in his throat. "Yohji-kun," Omi was saying, very evenly, very calmly. There was a little tremor in Omi's voice; the words meant nothing, but the tremor he noticed. "Get out of here. Now." 

"Make me," he breathed on the boy's neck, guileless. 

A shiver ran from the bottom of his spine up the length of his body, and the boy turned his head, trying to move away, trying to meet Yohji's eyes and gain some sort of strategical advantage. Omi was good at strategy. Always had been. 

Yohji moved with him as he rose from his chair, wrapping one arm around him from behind, pinning both of his to his sides. All the while, he hung his head over the boy's shoulder, and kissed and nibbled and marked his neck. "Y-yohji-kun," Omi tried again, stubborn authority falling to confused submissiveness in the tone of his voice. 

"You're mine. Stop whining." 

With one smooth, soft wet tongue he razed a path from collarbone to jaw, and he sucked on the lobe and earring of the nearest ear. Omi squirmed in his arms, standing perhaps only by virtue of stubbornness, for it was clear from the soft tortured sounds he was making that his knees were about to give out. 

That was just fine with Yohji. He found a nipple with his free hand, and teased it, suckling ear lobe and rolling computer chair out of his way with one foot. "S-stop it, Yohji-kun," whispered his captive. "Stop." 

He paused long enough to smile. "....No." 

With the chair gone, it was simply a matter of pulling their bodies together and resuming his minstrations, teasing one very responsive nipple into hardness while he rocked his hips into the boy's ass, feeling what was waiting for him, letting the boy feel what was coming. 

Omi gasped and made soft noises of protest that didn't sound very convincing, and he kept at what he was doing, quite pleased. Satisfied with the nipple, he quested downward with his free hand until he encountered pants, and slipped eager fingers beneath the waistband. There was something hot waiting there for him; at his touch, Omi went tense, fell limp, moaned, molded back against his body, wanting more. 

"Do you want it?" 

"...h-hai...onegai..." 

That was all he needed to hear. 

Yohji was an old hand at seduction. He knew well the art of lowering defenses, of undoing all manner of troublesome fastenings, and especially the art of playing dirty. Playing dirty was what worked with Omi, which worked for him also. It was a pleasant arrangement. 

For instance, just undoing Omi's pants then and there and fucking the living daylights out of his fine young friend would, admittedly, satisfy him, but would fail to properly arouse his companion. Yohji was nothing if not considerate in these matters, so he chuckled into Omi's ear and teased the boy's erection once more before slipping his fingers out and gripping the boy hard through his pants, unyielding and unfair. "You like it rough?" 

Omi whimpered. "Unnnn-hmm...." 

He rocked his hips forward and, consequently, Omi's hips curled forward with him and pressed that erection hard into the grip of his hand. 

A tortured little wail broke from the boy's throat. "Mmmmore..." He whispered, as Yohji abandoned the earring and hovered with their lips almost, but not _quite_ touching. He squeezed again and transformed one rocking thrust into a smooth rotation that pounded increasingly hard, increadingly fast. "Nnnnnnnnfuck..." Hissed the boy. 

It was a word Yohji liked to hear. 

"Do you want me to fuck you?" 

They rocked. 

Omi whimpered. "Ah-NNNnnn~!...H-hai..." 

"Hard?" He doubled the speed of their rocking momentarily and slowed again to gentle, rhythmic-like-the-tide strokes of in-out-in. 

Swallowing thickly, Omi nodded, slightly, mouth open enough to gasp through. "H-hard. F-fuck me..." Hand gripped crotch. He swooned. "Nnnnnyohji-kuuuuunn..." 

Pleased enough, he slipped his hand up to the boy's shirt and unlaced it with a tug. "Go on, Omi," he whispered, bringing their lips together and then pulling ever-so-slightly apart. "How do you _really_ want me to fuck you?" The shirt began to slip off one delectable shoulder. 

Omi couldn't speak coherently. 

Yohji closed the distance and stole a deep, wet kiss. 

He couldn't think straight; there was Yohji's hair tickling the back of his neck, Yohji's arm wound about him, holding him snug, Yohji's hand, gripping his erection, teasing him, making him want so bad-- 

There was Yohji's tongue, stabbing down his throat, unhindered. Yohji was in control. He belonged to Yohji. 

Unfortunately for Yohji, when he kissed he tended to get impatient. His hand, without his express permission, started to undo the front of Omi's shorts, slipping free a button, two buttons, and unzipping the zipper. The shorts, as it was their natural tendency to rest on the earth, traveled downwards. Eventually the kiss ended; he wasn't sure how long they managed to make it last, but he came away from it knowing that Omi was still his and Omi still tasted like fine wine and innocence, and that made him smile in the dusky dim room more than anything. That was the best drug he knew, and he'd tried a shitload of 'em. 

"Tell me," he whispered to Omi's lips, their eyes meeting over his sunglasses. "Tell me what you want me to do to you tonight." 

Red stained Omi's cheeks, a soft blush, a warm blush, one that was spreading through him as they kept rocking together in smooth sequence. "M-make it long...n'hard..." Sighing breathily, he uttered the last with that same tremor in his voice that had brought Yohji to him the first time, long before. "M-make me lose control, Yohji-kun...make me an animal for you." 

Yohji chuckled into Omi's neck, and the rocking ceased. "Reasonable requests." He stepped back, releasing the boy, and stood with his hands on his hips. "On your knees, kitten." Omi knelt on the floor where he was, and twisted back to peer over one shoulder at his master, looking as catlike as he ever had. The blush had not gone away; it suffused him with color, and aside from the slightly uneven gait of his breath, was the only obvious sign that he was even slightly aroused. 

Time to change that. Yohji walked over to the couch and sat down, legs splayed wide, the picture of relaxation and mockery. 

"Omi. Come." Like a cat, the boy began crawling to him across the floor, shirt dangling teasingly off of his shoulders, shorts and boxers still hanging off his hips, not quite low enough to tangle his legs. He was eroticism embodied. Yohji loved it. At Yohji's feet, he stopped, nose level with the other man's knees. "Stay," Yohji commanded firmly. "Stay there, just like that." And he stood and walked up the stairs, and looked like he wasn't coming back. 

But Omi stayed. 

Stealthily, he crept back up the stairs to his room, where he kept assorted supplies and toys and fun things to play with for such events, and grabbed some before returning whence he'd come, not worrying that Aya or Ken might happen to walk past him and see what he held because frankly, Aya and Ken did not currently matter. Omi was exactly where he had been. Yohji sat back down and smiled before brushing fingers through the boy's bangs. "Good boy. I have a treat for you. Turn around." 

Obediently, Omi did so, proffering an excellent view of his excellent ass. 

Yohji proceeded with the skill of an expert, first coating his hands in scented oil and then oiling up the treat before inserting it, quickly and carefully, into the boy's waiting ass. Omi hissed, but didn't react further. Yohji smiled. "Brace yourself," he warned. There was a wire connected to the treat, and a switch connected to the wire. He flipped the switch. The treat buzzed to life and settled, after a moment, inside of its new home, making a soft hum. Omi made a soft noise of surprise and clenched his hands into fists, and looked over his shoulder with big blue slightly worried eyes. "Behave," Yohji admonished. "And turn around." 

After slight hesitation, the boy did so; the wire was long enough for Yohji to hold the switch in his hand, and he flipped the switch further with a particularly wicked smile. Omi faltered in the midst of his motions, nearly collapsing before he could regain control over himself. But, and Yohji noted this with a silent note of glee, the boy didn't make a sound. 

He unzipped his own pants, tight black leather custom work, and slipped himself free. "Suck it," He ordered calmly, and waited until the boy was settling his lips over the erection to turn the setting of his treat to maximum. 

Omi groaned. Good. It was working. 

With vibrations running up and down and through his body, it was immensely difficult to concentrate on even something as simple as giving Yohji what Yohji wanted. He suckled at the erection determinedly, ignoring the vibrator as it randomly switched between settings, and kept a firm hold on his reactions while Yohji teased him. 

His methods were eliciting little more than moans and sighs from the boy and, knowing that he was about to start nearing climax, he stopped things where they were. "Enough." Omi paused, blinking up at him. "Get up here," he ordered, petting the boy's cheek as they locked glances. "Get up here so I can fuck you properly, katzchen." 

Omi obeyed. 

The treat was removed. 

Yohji did not, despite his consideration of his partner, like using oil. If the boy wasn't prepared from the toy, then so be it. He gripped Omi's hips and positioned carefully before looking up into curious eyes and smiling a devil smile, a predator smile. "Make some noise, pet." 

He pulled Omi's hips down, thrust his hips up, and slipped deep inside in one fluid motion. Omi threw back his head and began to whine, deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through the air between them, thrumming in Yohji's veins. It was the sound of wounded prey. 

They began to move. 

It didn't start slowly, or gently, like some might have; it started a frenzy of motion, of slamming without regard for possible damage done, and it became more frenetic from there. Omi's head snapped back and forth, each thrust jarring an oath or wordless cry from his throat, his hands gripping Yohji's shoulders for dear life. 

Yohji loved the feel of it. 

He loved the way Omi's hands clenched spasmodically when he hit the boy's prostate, and the way Omi's eyes went wide and feral as their brutal union reminded the boy of exactly his position in life. Weaker, smaller, younger, slave; He was Yohji's and Yohji's only, and only Yohji's cock belonged sliding hard in and out and in again to his ass. 

"AAAAaaahhhhYyyoooohhjjiiiii...." Omi's thighs couldn't close, which made it harder to orgasm; that was part of his plan. The boy whimpered at the proximity of release and his inability to force the almost into being. In the end he let loose a defeated little cry and gave up trying, allowing himself to be ridden like the submissive bitch Omi was. 

"Who owns you?" He growled. 

"Yyoooohjiii...." Came the weak cry, unstable through the lightning motions of their bodies. 

"Who fucks you?" He hissed, nearing his own completion, knowing that Omi's was close, so close. 

"H-ahhonly...Y-you..." The boy gasped, trembling all over. 

"What am I, Omi? What- AAahhhhhnn...." He cursed, in the very back of his mind where his could still think coherently, his timing. The rest of him was silent and thoughtless and filled with primal overwhelming pleasure, as he let loose his seed deep into the boy's willing body. 

Omi's body clamped around him, hard, tight, exquisitely painful, and spasmed several times as Omi answered him. "M-maaah-HAaaaaahh...." 

They held each other and remained still for long, sweaty moments, exhausted, blissful, complete. 

"M-master," Omi stuttered sleepily when, several minutes later, Yohji regained enough control over his limbs to remove himself from Omi's no-doubt tender ass. He smiled softly as the boy curled up in his lap, arms around his neck. 

"Yeah, but only down here, Omi-chan." 

The lion and the lamb slept. 

(the end) 


End file.
